I Had a Pearl
by PicklesTheKid
Summary: Inspired by the song 'I had a Pearl', by My brightest Diamond. I wish I had a better summary, perhaps later.
1. Chapter 1

**I Had a Pearl - My Brightest Diamond**

_Many strange things did I behold_  
_I had the favor of a queen and watched it turn to stone_  
_I've kissed the lips of princes, fools and dreams_  
_I walked a tightrope through the moonlight to the seven seas_  
_I've seen silver headed Valentine_  
_I carried up the swan kings gold and gave them thimble wine_  
_I saw the old man time glisten before the end_  
_I went down disappearing holes never seen again_

_I had a pearl and I lost it_  
_I knew the bliss of the dawn and it faded_  
_I saw her face turn away_  
_and now I know that there is nothing so hard_  
_I can't get over it_

_On eleven o' two I sailed a red hot balloon_  
_to the snow capped mountains of Timorataloo_  
_And when the owl stole my air for his last tune_  
_I floated up to Pluto on a beam of the moon_

_I had a pearl and I lost it_  
_I knew the bliss of the dawn and it faded_  
_I saw her face turn away_  
_and now I know that there is nothing so high_  
_I can't get over it_

* * *

The funeral had been a month ago, but for some reason she still expected to see Gran waiting for her by the window when the cab would pull up to the house. Sarah thought about this as she watched the countryside pass by. They were close enough to the coast that she could see it appear and disappear when the car reached a certain point on each of the lazy sloping hills the road was laid over. The days she could watch storms rolling in from the sea were her favorite.

What was it about this passing that seemed so unreal to Sarah? She had experienced loss a few times of her life of 26 years, but none of them were so hard to believe. Her grief wasn't presenting itself the way she thought it would, and she wasn't sure if or when it would come. It was like accidently cutting yourself, but it happens so quickly that you don't notice the extent of the damage. The blade was so sharp that she hadn't realized she had actually been cut open. Only when she felt unusual warmth spilling down her hand, would she find out how deep the wound reached.

And so, as Sarah waited for her stream of grief, she would concentrate looking after her Gran's house and packing up her belongings. Her stepmother had given her this task, worried for her emotional health. Sarah didn't mind, really. Actually, she had hoped it would kick-start the grieving process. It felt so unnatural to feel as calm as she was right now.

Some of her fondest memories were made in her Grandmother's modest country home, settled just miles from the coast and it's scenic cliffs. Sarah had always admired her Grandparent's place, though traveling there was a bit hectic, flying from the U.S. to Scotland. There was only one road that went past it, and she'd always felt bad for any cabby that took the task of driving them all the way out there. It used to be a farm, but much of the land around it was sold some time ago to the neighbors for their sheep to roam when her own relatives had gotten too old to care for their own herd.

It was the perfect place where she could fold in on herself and think.

Her memories of the Labyrinth and her friends there faded and collapsed piece by piece. Needless to say, she wasn't aware of what she'd lost, but there was still the feeling of having forgotten something important. This feeling took a certain toll on other areas in her life. She couldn't sleep, and when she did, dreams eluded her. Over the years she slowly lost them, and at the same time life began looking increasingly dull. Not that there weren't odd occurrences in her life. In fact, on a weekly basis she would wake up and her feet could be cold as ice. Sometimes she even found twigs or long grasses tangled in her hair. Sarah had suspected sleep walking on many occasions, but no one had ever seen her, and she never woke up in any other place than where she'd fallen asleep.

By the time the cab pulled up to the house the sun was already starting to set.

"Thank you." Sarah flashed the driver a weak smile and handed him the money she owed, as well as a generous tip. Standing with her bags beside her on the ground, she listened carefully as the vehicle drove off. Sarah took a long moment to imagine she was looking on at a house with the kitchen light showing through one of the windows, holding the promise of her Grandmother waiting up with tea and a picture of her Grandfather to keep her company.

The front door had always been a challenge to open. The wood had warped some over the years, causing it to get stuck. Leading with her shoulder, Sarah leaned her weight into the door, and finally managed to get it open. This conjured up images of her Grandmother, hooting and laughing as she barged through the door with her father carrying firewood. Both seemingly blown in by the harsh winter as their Jackets and scarves whipped about, then stopped abruptly as the door shut behind them.

Sarah stepped in. The space was untouched, the same. The only thing that grabbed her immediate attention was spot on the floor that did feel uneven under one of her shoes. She picked up her foot and found an envelope had been slipped under the door. No doubt it was note from the neighbor. In the dark she could just make out her name written in short, wobbly letters, familiar from many recipe cards she'd seen exchanged for her grandmother's own. Sarah kicked it aside; much too tired from her travels to read it this very second.

Sarah had decided to leave the lights off, letting her eyes slowly adjust to the darkness. She wanted to see everything for the first time as the sun rose in the morning, slowly flooding the windows with soft, orange light. It was all so quiet, but that was strangely all right. She knocked three times on the wall just beyond the front door, listening for ghosts to knock back in greeting. Of course, her only greeting was from the old mantle clock in the next room, still ticking.

She did not bother wandering around, making her way up the dark stairway with her things in search of a bed to crumple on and lay for the rest of the night. After some thought, standing still and quiet in the hallway, she decided she would sleep in her Grandmother's room. The bed was still made. Dropping her bags just beyond the bedroom door, the woman threw off her jacket and her shoes, then sat down and fell to her back on the firm mattress. She rolled onto her side, curling into herself, staring at the floral patterns of the old wallpaper.

After a good fifteen minutes she finally stirred again, turning her face into the powder blue pillow her head rested on. Dark hair, sprawled out, followed her movement gently. The sound of a deep breath broke the silence. A familiar scent still comforting to the grown woman as it had when she was young and in her arms Gran's arms, nestling her (often tearful) face into a mess of grey hair. It felt like the first real breath she'd taken after holding it for a month. Sarah exhaled and continued to focus on little other than the wallpaper for the remainder of the night.

Sleep came, but not before the sun had long set, leading her and the rest of Scotland into the new morning. Before her eyes finally closed, she heard a Vixen's Scream, soon followed by elated gekkering as she and her mate reunited in a field nearby.


	2. Chapter 2

She felt like a wave, distant from the shore, dipping low and swelling high—so high—but not enough to break. Several times a week she found herself running, not to be healthy, or stay in shape, but to release this energy swelling inside her, afraid of what might happen if her wave /did/ break.

It was evening now, and Sarah was running up the road towards the costal cliffs. A familiar place, she and her grandmother would often drive over for picnics, or even just to stand and watch the horizon. It was a good five miles or so from the house, and still Sarah was wondering if the distance would be long enough to quell her restless spirit. She had not done any packing at all today.

Sarah concentrated on her breathing, rhythmic and synchronized with her feet.

In the morning she made tea, thinking that would have to do for breakfast. Her grandmother's fridge was taken care of by some family friends, so the food would not spoil inside. Her grandmother's tea can, however, was sealed tight and always filled. A good strong cup of black tea would wake her up and get her ready to head into town. This was the plan until Sarah sat down to read the letter she had carelessly kicked aside last night. It was a welcome from , letting her know she'd slipped some food into the fridge before she'd arrived, just to make sure she was taken care of for her first meal. Sarah smiled at the paper and took a healthy sip of her tea.

Her destination was in sight, though still a good distance away. Sarah used the back of her hand to wipe away a tendril of hair that stuck to her forehead, and thanked the winds for picking up. The wind was always stronger near the ocean, and it smelled different too. Even if she had lost her sight, she would know where she was.

Each breath was heavy, thought still steady. Something was rising inside her, but she wasn't sure what. She kept on running.

Arriving home from her hunting and gathering, Sarah barged through the door again, leading with her shoulder, trying to keep steady the two nearly overflowing paper bags she was carrying. They where quite heavy for just one person, but she had her reasons. It wasn't always convenient to make trips to the store, especially with her grandmother's old, cranky car. It had taken several frustrating tries to get the thing to start, and even then it tested her with its lurching and groaning.

On the other hand, she found herself having to eat a lot more than she had in the past due to her running. Some days she would run up to ten miles a day, and even afterwards she might not feel she could stomach much food. Even so, Sarah would force down three square meals a day, making sure what she ate would make up for what she lost during these runs.

Sarah made sure to buy more than usual, as her runs had recently become more frequent, and their duration longer. This odd compulsion she had developed would not waste her away. She would not allow it, for her will was strong.

((small, but more to come. I also edited Chapter 1 a while ago.))


	3. Chapter 2 Part 2

Usually, a run was her chance to clear her head. All she had to do was place one foot in front of the other and imagine her own blood pulsing with her heart. This evening was different. That 'something' rising was pushing it's way out of her, or at least trying to. Sarah, a frightened of the feeling, tried her best to keep it under control. The more she fought, the heavier she felt.

The rest of her day had gone agonizingly slow. Intending on packing, she had settled herself in the living room, looking over the various items. It was hard to decide where to start. Everything just seemed so perfect where it was, how could she bring herself to move any of it? So she sat in a rocker, tapping her foot, and staring at the pictures placed carefully around the room. At least, she had started out that way, but by the time an hour had hit she was already pacing.

Sarah had done this almost all day. She would move to a different part of the house with her boxes, look around, stay for a while, get restless, and then move on. Even in the cellar she couldn't find anything she wanted to start. And, suppose she had, Sarah would still have to keep her concentration, which was starting to seem nearly impossible.

By the time she reached the top floor the day was already mostly gone, replaced with the late afternoon. A sigh sounded, and she gave up, deciding her time would be better spent on a run to the shore.

All at once,

Rising.

Heavy.

Pushing.

Tightening.

Something was lodged in her throat, dry, growing—and for several moments Sarah held her breath.

She wasn't prepared for it, a memory of her grandmother, relived many times. Grandmother's sturdy frame resting in her favorite wooden rocker, holding something—a book, usually, or even a small plate of biscuits for her tea. She always sat with one leg crossed over the other, rolling the elevated foot to music either on the radio or in her head. And as Sarah would enter she would turn to her, never missing a chance to greet her, even with only a glance. The woman would stop herself just short of returning to her previous interest to look concernedly over her glasses frames at her granddaughter. It was something Sarah didn't find everyday (especially as a child), someone willing to drop everything—to stop time if they had to—just for her.

"_Oh, child_!" She would exclaim, bushy grey brows furrowing, clearing the way for Sarah to come forward with her eyes and nose leaking. "Oh my, what's happened to you?" Of course, any composure Sarah had kept by then would immediately break and she would fly, sobbing into her grandmother's lap.

"Oh, oh, oh. My_ poor_, _sweet_ girl, how_ has_ this world _wronged you now_?"

Sarah coughed, forcing breath past the painful swell in her throat. Shuttering breaths, deep and short. She had to remember to breathe out to keep herself from becoming light headed. She'd never been so …in her life.

Sarah stumbled, falling to her knees and catching herself with her arms stretched out. It was probably a good thing she'd fallen, anyway. At the top of the cliff, overlooking the churning blue ocean, if she hadn't tripped, Sarah wasn't sure her feet would have stopped. She would have run into the sky and above the clouds.

"N—nhg." Biting down on the word barely pushing past her tongue, she needed to feel still first. Her fingers dug into the earth, twisting the grass she captured. Her voice pushed its self on the back of her teeth. Sarah growled, watching the grass underneath her sway in the wind. Her hair caught the brunt of it, whipping back and forth across her face. Slowly, her vision went, violently blurring together the green under her all at once, then not at all. This happened several times until she realized the remedy. Her eyes would fill up until it was impossible to hold anymore tears, and her vision would clear only for a moment as fat drops fell from her eyes to the grass. And with more tears, the blur would come back.

Sarah dropped and slowly rolled onto her back. This way she could watch the sky and the tears would just roll down the sides of her face, tickling past her ears before rolling off her cheeks. Finally her voice broke through. It had desperately wanted to emerge strong, but cracked, excited by its escape.

"N—o."

Lean arms immediately whipped up from her sides to cover her face. Ever few seconds she would shudder, her breathing still erratic, breaking only as she moved to wipe viciously at her eyes with her palms.

"No. No. No!" She gave in to her child and sobbed, turning harshly over onto her side. "It isn't fair!" Those words felt wrong to utter, but she howled them anyway. The child wanted the world to know her frustration, her sadness, the betrayal she felt. Her arms came up and cradled her head, fingers digging into a thick, dark mane.

_"Sarah, love. My poor sweet girl."_

Her Grandmother's words fell on deaf ears this time. Her grief was too much. Sarah whimpered and continued to cry without consideration.

_"Shhhhhh…"_ The wind tried to hush the poor child, playing the grasses around her like soft instruments.

"It isn't fair." The angry child curled even tighter into herself, shielding her heart from the wind.

_"Shhhhhh…"_The waves, too, tried to sooth her.

"I didn't—I—" "I didn't get to s—say goodbye!" The child wailed, her cries lost in the crash of a large wave hitting the rocks below.

"I wasn't ready to—s—s—s—…" She couldn't get the rest out, hiccupping, sputtering, choking after every attempt. Eventually, it came. "say…"

But she wasn't finished. She had more. Panic rose in her at the thought of trying to get just one more word out.

**"Shhhhhh…"** A deep hush whispered in her ear. The child felt a warm hand plant itself—hesitant—then firmly on her back. Sarah didn't look back to see if her hallucination was indeed one. She didn't have the patience to indulge in her desperate fantasies of comfort, though her breathing did even out.

A deep breath in.

The hand left.

And out.

Sarah opened her eyes and lowered her hands some.

"…goodbye."

Sarah stayed this way for a long while, still and crying—softly now—until her grandmother's words came back to her.

_"Sarah mine, dry your eyes."_

Her Grandmother would say. The woman sat up slowly, righting herself with tired arms. The backs of her hands came up to dry her eyes, and she sniffed back any new tears that might emerge.

_"There is no need to cry."_

That's right, she had been crying. Ah, sweet release. A sort of calm swept over her and she was able to lover her hands and look out onto the ocean. The wind dried her cheeks, soothing the red from them slowly.

_"Everything will be all right, my sweet. I love you more than anything."_

A funny sort of smile shook on Sarah's lips. It was one of relief, exhaustion, and ambivalence, all mixed together.

She sat for a long while, listening. And when she heard no more she rose from her spot on the grass. It was time to go back home. It was time.

"Goodbye."

Sarah's voice carried into the wind as she turned the opposite direction and headed back the way she came. She did not need to run back. Her energy was down well enough. An owl shrieked somewhere off in the distance, but that too was trapped by the wind.

Down below, past the rocks blanketed with churning water, and an dark, irritated patch of water watched intently as the woman drew herself farther and farther from the cliff's edge.


End file.
